


#HandstandChallenge

by starryskeyess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, College Student Keith (Voltron), Frat Boy Shiro (Voltron), Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex, frat AU, handstand challenge, i don't know if i should say i'm sorry or you're welcome, they're tipsy but not drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryskeyess/pseuds/starryskeyess
Summary: Frat boy!Shiro attempts the (hashtag) Handstand Challenge during a party, and Keith loses his mind :)Honestly this is 100% ridiculous hooliganry.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 218





	#HandstandChallenge

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [ Loppa's art](https://twitter.com/loppadraws/status/1250293420003749890/photo/1) on twitter, of Shiro doing the challenge. Check it out, it's gorgeous!

Thank the stars for the internet.

Keith knows that’s who he has to thank for the spectacle taking place in front of him. Though he can’t blame the internet entirely, he got to this party all on his own. Before starting college, if someone had told Keith he would have found himself packed into a tiny, gross frat house on a Friday night, surrounded by sweaty bodies and obnoxious pop music, he would have laughed in their face. Or punched them.

How could Keith have known his college freshman roommate would end up being in a fraternity? Keith hadn’t been excited about the prospect of having a roommate at all, but there was no avoiding a double room in one of the on-campus dorms. The school had a policy about it, so Keith hoped for someone who would leave him alone.

What he had ended up with was Takashi Shirogane. He hadn’t left Keith alone entirely, but was more considerate than Keith could have ever expected. He kept his side of the room tidy, didn’t play super loud music or make noise at weird hours. In fact, his roommate, who went by Shiro, seemed to genuinely be a good person. He face timed with his grandparents on the weekend, almost never had a bad word to say about anyone, and more than anything, he seemed to like Keith exactly as he was.

Keith was used to not fitting in, he had moved around a lot in the system and he rarely let people in--it seemed easier to stay alone than to risk people hurting him. Shiro was instantly different. He offered to take Keith to the store in his Prius to get the few last minute things he needed for their room, and bought him lunch afterwards. Conversation with Shiro was easy, and when he laughed at Keith’s dark jokes, Keith felt his protective walls start crumbling.

It helped that Shiro was hot as hell. Tall, built like a brick house, with a shock of pre-maturely silver hair. His right arm ended with an advanced prosthetic, bulky enough to match the swell of his left bicep. Objectively, Keith knew Shiro was attractive physically, but he was also so much more. His smile was warm and genuine, his eyes turned pure silver in the sunlight, and his laugh was infectious, rolling out from deep in his belly. 

During the first week of classes, they found out that they were in the same program, and started studying together almost every day. Then studying turned into getting late night meals and pre-exam coffees. What started as a cordial shared living arrangement became a real, honest to god, friendship. They watched old kung fu movies, and blasted pop punk too loud in Shiro’s car with the windows down, and got kicked out of the library a couple times for laughing too loud.

The more Keith got to know Shiro, the more hopeless he was. He learns Shiro wanted to be an astronaut, but the car accident he’d lost his arm in had also ended his lifelong dream. He learns that Shiro, despite having every right to be, isn’t bitter about the loss. He tells Keith his dream just changed, that it’s not lost, and Keith actually believes him. He learns Shiro loves cats, he learns the reality of just _how much_ when Shiro smuggles a pregnant stray into their dorm room late one night and hides mom and kittens under his bed for a week after they’re born, before bringing them to a rescue that can care for them and make sure the kittens get good homes. He learns just how soft Shiro is when he cries after they drop the kittens off, and how comfortable he is with himself when he doesn’t try to hide his tears or lie about them.

Keith still got plenty of alone time, which he sorely needed to function, because the rest of Shiro’s free time was spent with his fraternity. Keith had always thought frat guys were douchey shit heads, and honestly a lot of them really were, but Shiro wasn’t. His friend Matt was a decent guy too, and the fraternity they had both rushed didn’t seem terrible.

When freshman year ended, Shiro moved into the fraternity, and Keith got an apartment with a couple other students in his program, Hunk and Pidge. Keith was scared, more scared than he would ever admit, that his friendship would fizzle out, but it didn’t. Shiro still asked him to study together, they still ended up at the local 24-hour diner during all-nighters, and they still watched old movies on Keith’s couch until they both passed out into candy comas.

Shiro started inviting Keith to frat parties, and if anybody other than Shiro had asked, they would have received an enthusiastic ‘hell no’. But Keith couldn’t deny Shiro anything. So he found himself, with his roommates and a couple more friends in tow, in Shiro’s frat almost every Friday night. It was through the parties that Keith found out Matt was Pidge’s older brother, and that she had known Shiro since they were much younger.

Their relationship became more charged after one spring party during Junior year. Keith had been battling his growing crush on Shiro for two years now, and he hadn’t gotten any better at it. Every time he woke up on his couch, head on Shiro’s shoulder, after a late night movie marathon; every time Shiro showed up to walk him to class with a coffee and a smile; every inside joke and hug and peal of laughter had him falling deeper and deeper.

The night of the party, Keith had tried to drown his feelings with entirely too much tequila, when Shiro had pulled him onto the impromptu dance floor. The room was packed with sweaty bodies. Keith pushed close, too close, dragging his body against Shiro’s in a way that left no question of his intent. He knew he shouldn’t be so bold, that his interest might not be reciprocated, but he was at least 3 shots beyond self-control. He didn't want to hide anymore.

To his surprise, Shiro hadn’t pushed him away. His gaze had darkened, hands gripping Keith’s hips tight, pulling him in. They danced for long enough that night, locked together, that one of Keith’s roommates had very awkwardly intervened, asking Keith if he wanted them to stay and wait for him, or if he was just going to spend the night there. They had hurriedly separated then, blushing hard and finally aware of their surroundings, but never talked about what happened.

Things had definitely changed.

Since that night, they had each pushed just a little further whenever they were together. It was a game with no way of winning, and they both fought desperately not to lose. One of Keith’s friends, Lance, had started referring to whatever they were doing as “gay flirting chicken,” but Keith flipped him off and told him, for the hundredth time, that wasn’t what it was.

It was Keith sprawling his legging-clad legs over Shiro’s lap while they watched movies. It was Shiro lightly rubbing and squeezing his calves in response.

It was competing to get the tab whenever they went out to eat. It was hands on shoulders, thighs rubbing together under tables, words whispered by lips closer to ears than was strictly necessary. It was dancing with other people at parties, never breaking eye contact with each other.

It was fucking torture.

But honestly, it was nothing compared to tonight.

Tonight, Matthew fucking Holt had decided to pull out his phone and stream videos to the main TV of people doing something called a “handstand challenge.” Apparently it had gone viral, celebrities and gymnasts and loads of non-famous people were trying it and recording their attempts. The goal was to take your pants off while doing a handstand. Some of the attempts were hilariously graceless, others were, well, really impressive.

Over Matt’s loud drunken ranting about how _good_ Simone Biles looks doing the challenge, Shiro looks at Keith, smiling the soft smile that has always seemed just for him. Keith smirks back, looking at the screen then back at Shiro. Shiro quirks an eyebrow, reading the challenge in Keith’s eyes. Keith is pretty confident that Shiro can pull it off, if all his hours at the campus gym are good for anything. Despite his confidence in Shiro's ability, he wants to _see_ it.

Shiro, never one to back down from a challenge, has that glint in his eye. The one that tells Keith he’s in big fucking trouble. 

Keith gulps so hard he’s pretty sure everyone can hear it over the thumping bass. He's really going to do it. Shiro leans down to say something in Matt’s ear and thr shorter man's eyes widen, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. He fumbles with his phone, stopping the stream and opening the camera app, urging others back so there’s a space cleared around Shiro. He crows loudly to the room, urging them to watch Shiro achieve this feat of drunken nonsense.

Shiro finishes the drink in his hand, laughing as he puts it down. He stretches lightly, pulling his arms over his head and bending at the waist. Keith's eyes devours the little peeks of skin where his shirt rides up. Then he’s ready, and he winks at Keith before he bends to put his hands on the floor before throwing his feet into the air. 

Shiro’s first attempt is a quick failure. He’s definitely a little drunk, and he’s still wearing his shoes. Keith barely notices his fumbling. All he can see is the way Shiro’s shirt falls to his pecs, baring the expanse of his stomach. A stomach tightly coiled, abs rippling with the effort of keeping himself upright. He wants to lick a line up (down?) those abs, feel them ripple under his tongue. His nipples are dusky pink, beading up at the shock of cold air. His bicep swells and tense as they hold him up in the air, even his hands look good flexed against the ground, long fingers spread against the wood for balance. 

Shiro’s so fucking hot, and Keith is dying.

But Shiro rights himself, toeing off his shoes and socks, and he shakes his head a little to clear it. He looks like a dizzy puppy, shaking water out of his fur. His floof of white hair falls into his eyes, but he looks back at Keith and damn. 

_Damn._

His eyes are dark, with challenge and desire, and it steals Keith’s breath. He loves Shiro’s competitive streak. It’s one of the things that brought them together, keeps them pushing each other. Then the silliness is back and he sticks his tongue out at Keith and laughs. 

Shiro bends again, and he’s upside down. This time he's facing the other direction. If Keith thought his abs were hot, his back is _obscene_. His muscles bunch and roll as he walks in tight circles on the ground, fighting to maintain his balance. It’s not like Keith hasn’t seen him in less clothing than this, but it’s different when he knows Shiro is showing off just for him, in a crowded room of people. He knows that this show isn’t about a stupid viral challenge. 

It’s a challenge for Keith. One that he’s ready to lose.

Shiro uses his right foot to toe at the bottom cuff of his opposite leg, trying to ease his joggers over his left heel. His shoulders muscles flex with the effort. It takes a few tries, and as he walks on his hands, he pivots so Keith can see his face. He can see how Shiro’s eyebrows furrow, how his tongue darts out of his mouth as he concentrates. Keith stifles a groan.

After a few tries, he gets the first leg over his heel, pulling the fabric toward his feet. The stretch of the joggers reveals Shiro’s hipbones, and snug black boxer briefs hanging low on them. So low the V of his hips is visible, and the little dimples in his lower back. Dimples made for Keith’s thumbs to dig into.

Keith has never been harder in his life, and he sends a silent thanks to Pidge for suggesting he wear his tightest jeans. They confine him well enough for nobody else to notice, but they don’t stop all of his blood from rushing straight to his dick as Shiro’s joggers come off of one leg entirely.

The sight of his thigh, practically bursting out of the leg of his boxer briefs has Keith growling. He wants to nuzzle his face against the soft hair dusting Shiro’s skin. As he tries to get the second leg off he rotates again and… fuck. 

Shiro’s ass is perfect.

Keith knew that, has known it since the first day they met, but being faced with the full globed while Shiro flails his legs in the air is another thing entirely. While most of Keith’s fantasies involve being split open on Shiro’s cock, his ass looks delicious. Like Keith could spend hours between those perfect cheeks driving Shiro out of his mind with his tongue and lips. Keith hears a high pitch whining.

It’s him. He’s _keening_ at the sight of Shiro’s still clothed ass. 

He was wrong. Fuck whoever thought up this challenge.

Shiro gets the toes of his left foot into the waistband of his joggers, and with one fluid move, pushes the right leg up and off. The joggers fall to the floor with a soft thump, and the room erupts in cheers. Matt is losing it, recording everything with his cell phone. Shiro’s legs kick in the air, celebrating his victory, before he rights himself. The little flail is so cute that Keith can’t help but smile, so endeared by this ridiculous, adorable man.

Then Shiro’s standing and accepting a shot from a random person. His eyes are still blazing, fixed on Keith as he pours the alcohol back, barely grimacing. His cheeks are bright pink with exertion and his skin has a light sheen of sweat, and he’s never looked better. 

Keith doesn’t back down, looking right back at Shiro and in a way he hasn’t before, not bothering to hide his desire. He wants Shiro to know exactly how much he wants him.

Right here. 

Right now.

Keith breaks the eye contact only to slowly make his way to the stairs that lead upstairs to the bedrooms. Keith knows the layout of this house by the back of his hand by now, and he knows exactly which room is Shiro’s. 

Shiro’s eyes don’t leave him as he slowly treks up the stairs, trailing a hand over the railing behind him. Once Keith is out of sight of the main room, he takes a deep breath. He hasn’t ever taken it this far, neither of them have. But, for once, Lance is right. They need to get their shit together.

Keith sits on the edge of Shiro’s bed, neatly made as usual. He loves Shiro’s room. It’s all NASA posters and potted plants, neat and tidy but by no means boring. It feels like home in a way his apartment rarely does.

The door is open barely a crack, a thin beam of light falling into the room. A shadow darkens it and Keith’s breath catches in his throat.

The moment before the door is tentatively pushed open feels like it lasts a year. Then Shiro is in the doorway, barely any light escaping past his thick frame. He’s holding the joggers, standing in just his t-shirt and boxer briefs. The door closes behind him with a soft click.

Keith wonders if he left his socks and shoes downstairs before coming to follow him.

“That was some fancy footwork down there, Shirogane.” Keith’s voice comes out almost evenly. Almost.

Shiro chuckles softly. The low throaty sound of it sends a shudder rolling up Keith's spine. 

Keith stands, taking painfully slow steps towards Shiro. They come together inevitably, like waves and the shore. 

Keith takes in the taller man’s entire frame, not bothering to hide how his hot gaze travels from Shiro’s eyes to his feet and back again. Standing this close, Keith has to lean his head back to look Shiro in the eyes. 

“I wonder though..” Keith muses.

Shiro’s hum in response sends heat through his veins.

“I wonder if you can take the rest off like that too.” 

The sharp breath Shiro takes is loud in the quiet room. He looks down at his clothes, thinking, and when he meets Keith’s gaze again his eyes are determined.

“I guess I could give that a shot.”

Shiro takes a couple of steps back and turns away, moving fluidly into a handstand again. He keeps his hands closer together, somehow lengthening his frame enough that his t-shirt drops to his biceps almost instantly. Shiro lifts one hand, then the other, and the shirt is in a crumpled pile below him.

He makes a few more steadying moves with his arms, then looks at Keith. 

“One more, Shiro.”

This should NOT be hot. It shouldn’t. Shiro’s upside down, pink-faced and taking tiny steps with his hands. His long legs kick in the air for balance. But this close, all Keith can notice is how little he’d have to dip down to put his mouth on the bulge in Shiro’s underwear. A bulge that, he sees with a thrill, is becoming more pronounced by the moment.

Shiro makes a few slow moves with his legs, trying to get his toes close enough to catch on a leg of the briefs. But they’re too tight, and Shiro’s not _quite_ flexible enough. He huffs out of a soft breath, frustrated with his failure. He takes a few more steps with his hands, and one of his feet hits his door. He steps closer, using one foot against the door to maintain his balance while he tries again with the other foot.

Keith tuts, walking closer.

“That’s cheating, Shiro. It’s okay, you know, you can just admit you can’t do it.”

Something akin to a growl rumbles out of Shiro.

“Or…” Keith comes closer again, reaching out a hand. He runs his fingers, feathersoft, against the band of Shiro’s underwear.

“I could help you out.” 

Shiro’s foot is still resting against the door. Keith doesn't follow through yet, stil tracing his fingers gently over Shiro’s warm skin. He doesn’t answer, but the next time Keith’s fingers dust over the faint trail of hair below his belly button, Shiro pushes his hips forward into the touch, using the door as leverage.

Keith takes it as the permission it is.

Slowly, torturously slowly, he slides his fingers under the band, rubbing against the v of Shiro’s hips. His fingers spread under the soft cotton, thumbs resting in the hollow of hips while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of Shiro’s ass.

Shiro’s breathing is ragged. Keith pushes slowly up, sliding the underwear off first with his fingers, then using his thumbs to pull the front. Inch by inch, he exposes the length of Shiro’s cock, fully hard and pulsing at the attention. When the band reaches the head, his cock pops free, slapping against his stomach. The crack of skin on skin echoes through the room echoed by a growl of appreciation ripped from Keith's throat.

Shiro whimpers.

Keith slides the underwear to Shiro’s knees, and Shiro moves his legs one by one to escape the confines of the black cotton. He runs his hands back up the taller man’s thighs, savoring the feeling of soft coarse hair against the pads of his fingers.

“Keith…” 

But Keith is lost in the sight. The ‘definitely-should-be-ridiculous-but-is-actually-ridiculously-hot” sight of Shiro, hard and leaking and close enough for Keith to taste while he holds himself upside down. 

Keith has always liked how _big_ Shiro is, how his hoodies swamp Keith when he steals them. How he looked like he could throw Keith around, and how his hands could circle Keith’s entire waist when he sat behind him on Keith’s motorcycle. 

Now Keith _loves it_. 

Keith has been holding back for three years, but he can’t hold back anymore. He’s been so terrified of losing Shiro’s friendship, and yeah, they won’t ever be able to go back to how it was. Maybe Shiro doesn’t love him back, maybe this is just lust. 

Maybe this will shatter Keith’s heart, but at this moment, he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it.

“Keith, please…” Shiro’s voice is soft but it thunders in his ears.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you.” Shiro whimpers again, either at the petname or Keith’s hands moving to grip his hips firmly, his breath ghosting over the skin of Shiro’s inner thighs. He mouths lightly at the skin of his thighs, traveling up to his hips, skirting around his cock. It twitches whenever Keith gets close, drops of precum beading at the tip.

Bending his knees just a few inches, Keith licks a firm stripe from Shiro’s tip to base, making him spasm and almost fall. Keith can’t have that, so he uses his grip on Shiro’s hips to push him back gently, resting against the door. 

He waits a moment, in case Shiro wants him to stop. His entire body is vibrating with need, but he knows this isn’t a conventional or even entirely safe position. Keith takes some of Shiro’s weight into his hands, holding him firm against the door. Keith is holding Shiro so securely, Shiro won’t fall even if his arms give out. 

Shiro gasps loudly at the show of strength, then bites off a moan as Keith licks him again, this time the other direction. When he reaches the tip, he swirls his tongue around it. Keith suckles gently at his cockhead, tonguing the slit and tasting saltiness. No fantasy Keith has had of Shiro could compare to the actual taste of him.

With no warning, Keith swallows him almost to the base, moaning around him.

Shiro’s arms do give out this time. He practically shouts in pleasure, thighs shaking. Keith would smile if his lips weren’t stretched tight around Shiro’s girth. He knew Shiro was big, but fuck, the reality was otherworldly. Keith swallows around him once, twice, before pulling back and releasing him with a loud pop.

“Keith what the-holy fuck-” Shiro is scrambling for purchase on the floor with his hands as Keith steps back. He gives his hips a squeeze and steps far enough away that Shiro can right himself. His feet fall heavily, with none of the grace of his earlier handstands.

And then he’s on Keith, mouth hot and fierce against his. It’s all teeth and tongues and breathless moans. Keith loses himself in the feeling of Shiro’s mouth plundering his, and in pushing back. Shiro’s weight pushes him back towards the bed insistently. The back of Keith’s knees his the bed and he collapses backwards, Shiro following as if he can’t bear another inch between them. 

“You’re wearing-way too many-too many fucking clothes,” Shiro pants between kisses. His fingers fumble with Keith’s shirt, and eventually pulls it over Keith’s head, . 

The hot slide of skin on skin is enough to drive Keith crazy as they come back together. He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. Shiro’s lips leave his to lay open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck. He reaches the juncture of his neck and shoulder and sucks _hard._

Keith’s moans sound suspiciously like Shiro’s name as Shiro’s hands undo the button and zipper of his jeans. He’s burning up, on the edge of a million things and ready to fall. He’s pretty sure he’ll come the second Shiro gets his hands on him but he can’t care enough to be embarrassed. 

Eventually Shiro gets his jeans and boxers worked down his thighs far enough for his cock to spring free, and at the first brush against Shiro’s own hard length, Keith shudders violently, overwhelmed. He can’t believe this is finally happening, that it’s so much more than he imagined. 

With noticeable effort, Shiro stops, putting two fingers under Keith’s chin to tilt his head up at him. His eyes, blown wide and lust addled, are so soft when he asks, “Is this okay?” 

Keith barks out a laugh, reaching down to circle both of them loosely with his hand. 

“God, Shiro, if you stop I swear I’ll…” 

Shiro’s smile is sunlight. He beams at Keith, then moans obscenely, as Keith tightens his hand and slides it down both of their lengths. 

“Keith, let me,” Shiro licks a stripe over his palm and then his hand is joining Keith’s, wrapped around both of their cocks. 

They grind together, cocks sliding together in a lewd slide of spit and pre-cum. Keith’s thighs are shaking and he knows he’s close, feels the heat pooling and spreading through his limbs. 

Keith’s moans are loud and unstoppable, rising with his pleasure. Shiro is babbling now, groans of _yes-Keith-oh god-so perfect-Keith-fuck-Keith Keith Keith,’_ thighs shaking where he holds his full weight off of Keith, grinding their hips together. 

“Shiro, I’m gonna- _Takashi!_ ” Keith’s at the point of no return, quivering, his thrusts into their joined hands growing haphazard and graceless. Shiro’s breath catches at the sound of his name. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” Shiro breathes the words against Keith’s lips and Keith loses himself in pleasure. He cries out, painting their hands and his abs with splashes of his release. Shiro follows him a moment later, hips stuttering as he cries out Keith’s name. Shiro collapses onto him for a second but quickly shifts his weight to the side to keep from crushing him, keeping an arm and a leg thrown across Keith. 

They lay together bonelessly, the only sound their harsh breathing. Keith stares sightlessly at the ceiling. He’s warm and comfortable, despite the quickly cooling mess on his stomach and his tight jeans still stretched across his thighs. Shiro’s weight on him is comforting and so _right_. 

Keith wants to lay here forever, to spend every night in Shiro’s arms, breathless and exhausted and satisfied. He wants to wake up next to his goofy smile every morning, kiss him at parties in front of all of their friends and a bunch of strangers, hold his hand while they walk around campus. 

Keith is so ridiculously, hopelessly gone on his best friend. His best friend who he just had what could be the best orgasm of his life with. 

Face buried against Keith’s shoulder, Shiro’s laugh bubbles out, breaking Keith out of his reverie. The laughter continues until Shiro’s shaking with it, so Keith lifts his head to look at the other boy in confusion. 

“It’s been three years, three years! And all it took was a stupid meme challenge. I just… Keith, baby, we are so dumb.” Shiro is still laughing, and it takes a minute for his words to penetrate Keith’s haze. He starts laughing too. 

“Yeah, we are. Super dumb.” 

Do you want to stop being dumb with me?” Shiro’s voice is tentative, even a little shy. Keith stills, laughter and air both leaving his lungs in a whoosh. 

“What do you mean?” 

Shiro’s smiling that sweet, private smile. He lifts his hands to Keith’s face, fingertips skimming his cheekbone as he gently pushes the hair back out of his eyes. His fingers linger there, as if trying to memorize the texture of the strands between them. 

“You’re my best friend, Keith. I don’t ever want to lose you, or do anything that pushes you away. But, do you want to be more than that? Because I know you want me, and baby I want you so badly too, but I want more than that. I want… all of it. I mean, if you want.” 

The blood is rushing in his ears, drowning out his thoughts and anything Shiro might say after that. Keith leans up abruptly, capturing Shiro’s lips in a kiss. It’s too hard at first, but Shiro holds his face, gentling it into something sweet and lovely. 

They part, gasping again, and Shiro’s still looking at him expectantly. 

“I want everything with you too, Shiro” Keith says it so bluntly, without any of the flowery language he thinks most people would want. Language Shiro would use. He panics for a moment, but Shiro’s mouth is back on his and he’s melting into the kiss. The world narrows to where their lips slide against each other’s, and it’s perfect. 

When they part, Shiro keeps his forehead pressed against Keith’s. His hand is in Keith’s hair, carding through the long black strands tenderly. He laughs softly and repeats, “so, so dumb.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Honesty hour: this is my first time writing smut. So I'm sorry if this was at all disappointing. I'll keep practicing ;)
> 
> I'm @/starryskeyes on Twitter! Come chat :)


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